


The Uncontrollable Heart

by the_me09



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-18
Updated: 2010-04-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9380714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_me09/pseuds/the_me09
Summary: Holmes starts having dreams. Watson finds out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt from the ages old kinkmeme: Holmes is dreaming about Watson who hears, uh, moaning and comes to investigate. How does the good doctor react?  
> FIRST TIME!SLASH PLZ.

Holmes knew what lust was. He was aware that it was a powerful emotion. He knew what it could drive people to do. What he did not understand, was its ability to completely ensnare the mind and body.

I had never known lust. And I had most certainly never lusted after men. I never knew Watson to lust after men either, but then I think I might have underestimated this most compelling emotion. Nor did I know what lust could truly lead to.

When I discovered this singular fact I had been backing away from a potentially violent scene. Watson grabbed me and pulled me to a darker corner. My back was pressed the length of his front. We were trying to occupy the smallest amount of space possible with the result that I could feel Watson’s desire pressed urgently against me. I noted his blush, from the corner of my eye, and it told me all.

Indeed, there were many factors that could have led to Watson’s aroused state, the danger perhaps, but subsequent experiments have made it clear to me that I am, if fact, the object of his desire.

I am unable to condemn or blame Watson for these things. He merely does not have power over his body. The flow of his blood is quite beyond his sphere of control. Not everyone has perfect mastery over their body the way I do.

However, most recently, I find that I cannot control my body the way I used to. I find myself reacting to Watson’s presence - his very scent! If he looked at me in just the right way, I could feel my heart flutter into my throat. A bubble expanding inside me, and when he smiled at me . . . these emotions were utterly perplexing. I had never before experienced such occurrences.

Then the dreams began. Only during my pubescence as a boy of fifteen did I have such vivid and pleasurable dreams. Though then my dreams were always of women and soft curves, never the hardness of men.

For an entire week I woke with stained sheets and Watson’s name on my lips. Though I do not believe I actually called out.

I can’t imagine what Mrs. Hudson thought of the sudden interest I took in washing my own things.

It was after such a week that Watson and I were sitting down to our breakfast. He gazed at me over his tea cup and I had to flee. A flicker of emotion flashed through his eyes, but I was too intent upon my escape to analyze it.

I could not stay in the same room with Watson after the previous night’s sinful fantasies. I would only be able to think about the things his tongue had done in my dream and if such contortions were actually possible.

I wandered through the streets of London all day, but the dreams, and the emotions hiding behind them, still weighed heavily on my mind. If Watson desired me, and I desired him, why had we not coupled yet? It was a question I dared not answer, for I fear this had registered on an emotional level.

When I returned, Watson was still up, so I was forced to greet him before quickly retreating to my bedroom. I was eager for sleep, in order for the Watson of my nightly depravities to return.

I was buried deep inside him. His thighs straddling me and holding me down while he slid and moved, completely in control despite the fact that I was buggering him. His head was thrown back, tendons on his neck straining . . . When I was awoken by an insistent hand upon my shoulder.

I looked up to see Watson, features clouded with concern. My arousal had yet to be noticed and I hoped his observational skills had deteriorated since I last knew.

“Are you alright old chap? You were moaning in your sleep, I thought you were hurt. I heard my name and thought I’d check on you. Was it a nightmare?”

Drat, I had been calling out.

“Did I wake you?” I avoided the question, knowing that Watson could easily tell if I was lying. He had a talent for it.

“No, I was in the sitting room.” He glanced over me as though checking for wounds.

When his gaze paused and his eyes widened, I knew I had been found out.

I was at a complete loss for words. It seemed the good doctor was as well, for he opened his mouth several times without any sound.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally managed to stutter out. “I shan’t disturb you again.”

My brows furrowed in confusion. I grabbed his wrist before he could leave. I was mystified as to why he should apologize for my uncontrollable body. Indeed, I did not apologize when various parts of his anatomy were affected. He looked at where I was touching him and shivered.

My brain seemed sluggish, drugged by the sight of him in shirtsleeves and trousers, braces hanging idly by his sides.

Then I did the most brilliant and thoughtless thing in my life. I pulled Watson down on top of me.

He struggled for a moment until I pressed my lips to his, at which point he became as still as the Greek statues on our sill.

I couldn’t help but fear I had made a gross miscalculation. There was nothing I could do but kiss him again. His lips were smooth and warm and this was indescribably different from any other kiss I had shared. After a tangible moment, his lips began to move under my assault. He was kissing me back! His large hands tangled in my hair as his tongue stole into my mouth.

The taste of cheap shag was heavy on his tongue. His worry for me had obviously interrupted his evening pipe.

“Holmes…” We were panting and I heard the warning in his tone, but I didn’t know what he was warning against, for he thrust his hips downward catching me by surprise in a wave of pleasure.

I unbuttoned his shirt as swiftly as I could while he was scrabbling frantically at my night shirt. Once his arms were freed, he took to exploring my chest and arms, trailing his fingers everywhere he could reach. My entire body was burning with his touches. I was afraid I might combust at any moment. I wanted every sensation to be imprinted upon his memory as it would be on mine.

This could ruin our friendship, but to truly have him like this, at least once, seemed a fair trade. I could live the rest of my days in blissful solitude with simply the memory of this moment.

I ran my hands down his sides, making him shiver. I threw my leg over his hip and rolled us so I was straddling him. His hands grasped at my thighs, rocking my naked erection against the scratchy wool of his trousers.

My hands worked at his flies while my mouth captured his. He gently bit at my lower lip and the wiry bristles of his mustache brushed against my upper lip. Hurriedly, I pushed his trousers down past his hips, freeing his swollen cock.

Leaning back, I drank in the sight of him as if I had been starved for it my entire life.

His short hair sticking up, blue eyes darkened to midnight with lust, lips pink and swollen. Tanned chest heaving and flushed, with his prick engorged and poking at his stomach.

“Holmes,” and his voice was perfection. Anguished pleading, yet still exasperated.

“Watson,” I sighed and set my mouth to his chest leaving little teeth marks on every ridge of muscle that trembled under my touch.

I searched around in the candle light for the oil. My mouth continued to move downwards until I needed a hand to help guide his prick to my mouth. My own cock was heavy against my abdomen, aching for him. But I needed to make this last, to make it spectacular. I also needed to find the blasted oil.

One hand still searching, I used my left to hold the base of his cock. I took him in my mouth, eliciting a gasp. I licked at the slit of his leaking cock while one of his hands tangled in my hair, urging me further down his length. I moved my tongue around him and pulled back when his left hand pressed a round bottle into my right. His hips bucked, seeking my mouth as I pulled away and smiled at him. He grunted as I moved and positioned myself underneath his legs rather than on top of him.

I oiled my fingers and licked up his shaft as one finger slid inside him. He tightened around me and I took him a little further into my mouth to distract him when I worked a second finger in.

Looking up to gauge his reaction, my eyes caught his. It seemed momentous - I was in him and around him the way I had dreamt of. It was rather sudden to realize I had always, on some level, wished for this connection - wished for him to look at me the way he did now - with worship in every feature.

A third finger joined the other two and Watson could no longer hold my gaze. He threw his head back into the pillow.

I teased his prostate and he cursed and writhed wantonly. When I pulled out my fingers he positively glared at me. But then I was pressing my cock into him and he pushed back to meet me.

He was tighter and hotter than I could have imagined. I had to control my breathing very carefully, otherwise it would be over all too quickly.

Leaning down, I kissed him chastely, his mouth seeking mine blindly. His eyes were closed tight and beads of sweat stuck out on his forehead.

I had never seen anything more beautiful.

I moved slowly, allowing his body to adjust. I thrust shallowly, grunting. It took all my not inconsiderable will power to not completely ravish him. Watson was making the most delicious whimpering sounds. He pulled me down into a kiss, his mouth eager against mine.

“Please, please Holmes,” he begged, bucking his hips wildly.

I held his hips down and pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into him.

He cried out and wrapped his legs around my waist, pulling me closer. His hands grasped and searched for purchase on my sweat slicked shoulders.

I gripped his straining erection and began pumping in time with my thrusts. I angled myself to hit that certain spot of pleasure.

With such stimulation he could not last long, and indeed he was soon coating my chest with streaks of white. He clenched around me, pulling my orgasm from me, wringing me until I had nothing left to give.

Sighing, I pulled out and stood on shaky legs to grab a towel. When I returned, Watson was sprawled on the bed with an adorably dopey grin on his face. I cleaned us both and then crawled under the covers. Watson wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. He kissed the back of my neck and buried his face in my hair. Soon he was asleep and the calm of his breaths lulled me to slumber.

 

The next morning I was surprised to find Watson still wrapped around me. Honestly, I had expected him to be long gone. Having had his fill of my body, his lust sated, he would no longer want to continue our new carnal relationship. This was impropriety at its worst and Watson stood for nothing if not a proper gentleman.

Not only was he there, but he was awake and had been watching me sleep. I was confounded.

“Holmes, what are you thinking?” His brow furrowed. I had never been watched so closely.

“Whatever do you mean?” I asked trying to distance myself from him. It would make the eventual rejection hurt less.

“Your eyes, they widened. And you look, dare I say, frightened.” He searched my face and only tightened his hold upon me. I was on my back and he had propped himself up with his arm to get a better view of my face.

I wanted to reach up and stroke his cheek. I yearned to memorize his face with my hands and lips so I would always know the feel of him. It seemed the softer emotions had been lurking inside me, waiting for their moment.

“Do you regret what happened last night?” he whispered with pain evident in his eyes.

That idea was so absurd I actually laughed aloud.

“No, I do not regret last night.” Watson’s face cleared somewhat and an escape was forming in my mind.

“Then what is it that has you acting so . . .” he trailed off staring down at me. Something in his face changed, though even I couldn’t say exactly what it was. He sat up suddenly and pulled me with him. This was it, he was now going to tell me that this would never occur again and he was leaving Baker Street forthwith.

I looked down at the bed sheets pooling around us, waiting for the harsh words to come.

“Holmes, look at me,” the words were said in a gentle tone that made my heart hurt in a way I would never have believed possible. I glanced up at him and then looked away again.

Watson grabbed my face, one rough hand on each cheek, and forced me to meet his eyes. His expression was unreadable, but seemed something akin to anger.

“Did you think I would leave you?” He definitely sounded angry. “Did you truly believe I would flee from you and your depraved ways?” I nodded and was dismayed to find my eyes filling with tears. Damn this uncontrollable body.

“Then you are a fool,” he said, staring at me intently. I blinked, forcing the alien tears down my face. I did not understand him or the soft look on his face. “Sherlock Holmes, I love you, and there is nothing in all the world that would make me leave you.”

There are no ends to the surprises Watson gives me. I did nothing but gape at him until he caught my mouth in a tender caress of lips.

We pulled apart and he wiped the tears from my cheeks. I finally took the liberty of caressing his face. He smiled as I traced his brow and his nose, memorizing every line and plane. I finally drew my gaze away from his lips to his sparkling eyes. And I realized how very vital he was to my continued existence, how thoroughly I had come to rely on him, not only in our adventures, but in my heart as well.

“My dear Watson,” I sighed. “I love you too.” He drew me close and held tightly. It felt as if he would never let go.

And I didn’t want him to.  



End file.
